


mon chevalier

by pinkcupboardwitch



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkcupboardwitch/pseuds/pinkcupboardwitch
Summary: "Impulsivity suits you, Vasya."-The Soviet team is by definition always on display. The Borgovs carve out a moment for themselves.
Relationships: Vasily Borgov/Mrs. Borgova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	mon chevalier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muffinworry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffinworry/gifts).



> For the prompt "a jealous kiss."
> 
> Also because Janina Elkin and Marcin Dorociński are beautiful people and I wanted to see more of them interacting in period clothes.

She is the only woman in the Soviet contingent. Smaller, slighter than them all - even Georgi stands nearly level with her by now - the only one clad in cream and fawn among all the dark suits.

This, too, is a choice.

They all know what the West thinks of Soviet women: dowdy, boxy creatures, stringently unfashionable and even more rigidly undesirable. The sight of Marya is the diplomatic equivalent to a slap with a glove. European glamour wedded to Slavic exoticism, standing five foot four in kitten heels. Your move, each small, artfully artless gesture says even before she’s opened her mouth. Your move, messieurs, mesdames.

It works. Englishmen stare covertly in the wake of her perfume. South Americans and Spaniards call gallant praise as she passes by. Frenchmen cross openly from across streets and bars. Women everywhere sidle up and touch their elbows to hers and light their cigarettes from hers, giggling, touching their hair unconsciously. Americans - better not to think of Americans.

Strategically, it is a master stroke. Tactically, Vasily is displeased.

Mexico City. A hotel bar. Lights, heat, swirling jewels, music electric. Under the layers of coat, shirt, knotted tie, his neck is damp with sweat. Marya beside him sipping a tequila, her tongue kittenish in the salt-dipped corner of her mouth. Their agents a few seats down watch him steadily. Men all around them watch her.

Vasily sets his water glass down and sets his hand on her waist. His other hand tilts her chin up; he kisses her firmly.

Even through the kiss and her answer of it, he feels her eyebrow raise. “Charming,” she says once he’s let her down. “From the goodness of your heart, I take it.”

“On the contrary. Pure calculation, Marya.”

She dimples; her finger strokes across his lips, shining with alcohol from her mouth. “Pity. Impulsivity suits you, Vasya.”

As one they look without seeming to look or even turn their heads at those steady-eyed guards. They can’t dance now: not abroad, not in public. Even at home, they only dance in their apartment or those of trusted friends, the rugs rolled up and the jazz turned down low. Soviet world champions and their wives have images to uphold. But if they were home now he’d have taken off his coat in heat like this. If they were home now she’d be in his arms.

Marya gives a tiny sigh. In the angle between them, Borgov’s blocky body hiding her hand from view, she runs her finger slowly around the rim of his collar. “Jealousy looks good on you too, even though it makes most men ugly. Why is that?”

“Wanting you suits me.”

_Loving you suits me._

Her eyes flicker and darken. She’d heard what he left unsaid. In the golden bar dusk, the reflections of the round colorful lanterns gleam in her eyes like fireflies.

“Grand Maître,” she says softly, “mon chevalier, mon cheval,” and stands on tiptoe to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> "Grand Maître. Mon chevalier, mon cheval" - "Grandmaster. My knight, my steed."


End file.
